


Winning Hands

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can definitely see the benefits of strip poker."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning Hands

Teyla asks Sheppard to lock the door. Which he does with a grin. “Don’t want the marines to walk in?”

“I believe _you_ would prefer them not to, John,” she says with a wry smile before she drops neatly into a sitting pose on the floor beside the low table they’re using in this rec room. “Colonel Mitchell, please deal.”

Cam begins to deal out the pack, the slick cardboard beneath nimble fingers. “Hey, Teyla, I think you can call me by name. You know, since we’re playing strip poker.”

Sheppard gives him a hard look as he sits back down, less gracefully than Teyla, but still cross-legged. Still, Cam’s at his most charming, and after a measuring look, Teyla glances at Sheppard and says, “Very well, Cam.”

The chips on the table are counters for each round - twenty chips in total, lose all your chips and one item of clothing is removed before the chips are redistributed. “And your wristband is not an individual item of clothing, John,” Teyla adds as the cards are swept up. “It comes off with your socks.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Have you guys played this before?”

“Yes,” Teyla says.

“No,” says Sheppard at the same time.

Cam grins and places his preflop on a two of spades and a nine of hearts. “Lady and gentleman, place your bets.”

It starts off mildly enough - cautious bets from Teyla, slightly bolder ones from Sheppard. Sheppard loses all his chips first, making a bet on a straight that Teyla beats with a flush, and sheds a jacket. Cam’s not unhappy to have the chips redistributed - he’s down to one chip when Sheppard loses that hand.

In the next round, Teyla goes down with a straight against a full house and sheds _her_ jacket with a glittering look over one brown shoulder.

Cam’s heartbeat hitches a moment, then resumes its steady step.

The first dozen rounds are easy strips, nothing revealing - jackets, socks, shoes, Cam’s shirt.

It’s a warm summer’s night; Cam’s not bothered about being bare-chested. He met Teyla’s eyes as he tossed the shirt away, grinned as she surveyed his chest and bared shoulders, and smirked at Sheppard, who just rolled his eyes.

This round is Sheppard’s loss, and the t-shirt is hauled over his head and tossed down on top of boots, socks, wristband, and jacket with a casual shrug. His eyes challenge Teyla’s sly smile. “Deal.”

Teyla smiles, deals, and then loses the next round with a measly pair that she was trying to bluff past the boys.

She stands to strip - just her socks. Cam sits back to watch because the teasing peel of clothing is part of the deal - although it’s hard to be sexy with socks.

Then Teyla reaches for the button on her top.

Her sultry look shoots tugs at Cam’s balls as the fastenings are undone, one by one. And a smile plays on her lips as she opens the front flap and shrugs out of her Athosian shirt. Cam’s heart his suddenly pounding in his ribs, and blood is draining into his lap with definite results.

Athosian women don’t wear bras.

His mouth is dry as Teyla drops the top into her pile of clothing with a rustle of stiff material that goes unnoticed in the quiet that’s filled with the drumbeat of blood in Cam’s veins. He’s pretty sure he can hear Sheppard’s pulse thundering with the same intensity.

He drags his eyes up to her face through force of discipline and the knowledge that she can kick his ass. Her skin’s a smooth golden-bronze across her shoulders, descending to a rich coffee cream in the full curve of her breasts. Cam swallows as she sits down and those dark-tips jiggle teasingly across the table from him.

“Jumping the gun a little, don’t you think?” Sheppard’s voice starts off rough, then smooths out after the first few syllables.

Teyla tilts her head at him, arch mischief in her eyes. “You do not appreciate the view, John?”

Sheppard’s breath hisses out of his chest. “I never said that.”

“Then give me my chips, shuffle the cards, and let us play.” She leans back, planting her hands behind her, giving both men the opportunity to admire those ripe curves without obstruction. Her smile sizzles in Cam’s veins and he blows out a long breath, shifts in trousers that are suddenly a little too tight, and shuffles the cards for the next round.

Three rounds later, it’s quite clear that Teyla had a strategy in stripping so early.

Cam’s willing to bet there isn’t a heterosexual man alive who can concentrate on his poker hand when the woman he’s playing with is playing with her breasts.

If Teyla would only look at him or Sheppard as she strokes the outer curve of her breast, he’d be _sure_ it was deliberate. But it’s damned hard to call her on it when it’s an almost absent-minded stroke as she contemplates her hand and the table cards. It’s damned hard to bring her notice to it, too. And it’s damned hard to focus on the numbers and suits when a woman’s stroking herself just beyond the edge of your cards.

It’s damned hard, any way Cam looks at it.

He’s not even going to _look_ at his lap, which has only the relative protection of boxer briefs - which is to say, none at all. Sheppard’s been shifting a little, too. At least the other man has boxers, which are loose enough to give him a little leeway - not that Sheppard’s doing too well in the hard-on category. When he sat down after dropping his trousers, there was no mistaking the tenting. Working with a woman whose mind is considerably more dangerous than her body is enough of an aphrodisiac - and Cam should know.

He knows better than to mess with Sam, of course. Military protocol, chains of command, and the knowledge that General O’Neill isn’t a man to cross are more than enough to override any lingering libido, assuming Sam even wanted him like that.

When he bet this game of strip poker with Teyla and Sheppard, he didn’t expect much more than a good game of poker. Now Cam’s wondering if he’s going to get lucky with more than just hands - although hands are good, too.

Concentrate! Your grandma didn’t raise you to be a walking dick, Mitchell. You get your attention back on that hand and win Teyla’s trousers off her!

The nine of hearts, the jack of clubs, and the seven of hearts are out on the table. Cam’s got the seven of clubs and the jack of spades. A two pair is reasonable, he thinks and raises his bid to match Sheppard’s. Teyla pauses a split second before she raises hers, then leans across the table to flip the fourth community card over.

A scarlet ten is a bit of a disappointment - the ten of hearts - but Sheppard raises all in, and so does Cam. Teyla hesitates, looks from one to the other with narrowed, thoughtful eyes, then shrugs lightly and meets their bet.

She flips over the last community card, and the seven of diamonds twinkles up at Cam. A two pair has just become a full house, and there’s a pair of trousers about to hit the floor.

Sheppard’s got a smirk on his lips as he flips over his cards - the seven of spades and the jack of diamonds. “Full house.”

Cam shoots him a look and turns over his own cards. “Full house.”

They look to Teyla who is regarding their cards with some surprise.

“I think it’s showtime, Teyla,” Cam says, leaning across the table with a smirk.

She lifts one eyebrow, then flips over her cards. The eight of hearts and the jack of hearts laugh up at the two men. “Straight flush.” Then she leans back, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a smile. “Take it all off, boys.”

Never let it be said that Cameron Mitchell’s grandma raised a bad sport.

While Sheppard’s still gaping, Cam stands up from the table and peels off his boxer briefs, easing the waistband over his erection, enjoying the way Teyla’s gaze takes him in before lifting to his face. Then she turns to Sheppard. “John?”

“You know,” Sheppard says wryly to Cam as he stands and divests himself of his boxers, “I always manage to forget that she’s sneaky when it comes to strategy.” When the silky material slithers to the floor, Sheppard’s erection is plain to see as well.

“But aren’t you glad of it, John?” Teyla grins, all sexy mischief. “I believe I have won.”

“Are we gonna take her?” Cam asks the other man.

He means in a tussle, not sexually. But meaning is not the same as intention, and intention is not the same as action.

Meaning and intent and action blur as luck is very much a lady, and the lady’s name is Teyla Emmagan.

An hour later, sated and satiated, Cam nibbles at Teyla’s throat as the last vestiges of orgasm shudder through her. Sheppard’s fingers are still sliding in and out of her cleft, deftly rhythmic, and the other man’s head is propped up on his elbow, watching her lashes flutter against her cheeks as she shivers. Cam moulds one dark nipple with his fingers, and grins at his co-lover.

“I think we all won that round.”

Teyla makes a noise of agreement in her throat and Sheppard smirks. “I’ll pay that."

 ****


End file.
